Desesperanza

Streaming + Download

Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

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Desesperanza pro-tape by Nebular Carcoma Records

Cassette + Digital Album

Limited to 100 hand-numbered copies in pro-tape format.Includes the demo version of "Vacuola..." as a bonus track.
Includes unlimited streaming of Desesperanza
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

about

Desesperanza's music was composed mainly throughout 2008 and did suffer modifications and improvements until 2013 when it was recorded. The lyrics are poems written in 2006 and therefore reflect my past views. They were not initially intended to be part of any project; I still hadn't conceived the idea of Desesperanza when I wrote them. The material remained unreleased due to the lack of a drummer before 2010 and the funds for production until 2013.

This album was recorded during the production of Precaria Ex Humanitas, taking advantage of the remaining studio time. However, due to my personal bankruptcy (after Precaria's release), I wasn't seeing the possibility of physically releasing it. In consequence, I presented it as a digital format release in December 2014 and quickly got the interest of the Spanish underground label Nebular Carcoma Records whom offered me a professional printed press of 100 tape copies which are already out of stock so it is very hard to find though the majority of the copies were spread to other labels and distros via trades (I've encountered Caligari Records and Esfinge de la Calavera selling them).

The recording of this album (tracks 1-4) was done with the only purpose of not leaving this dark work back in the past, as a memory - stuck in the nothingness. As even if I don't identify entirely with the lyrics anymore, they were carved from the deepest realms of my being at that time, and so is the music, being passionate and 100% honest material. That was the time I got pulled into funeral doom and the depressive styles of black metal (something clearly reflected on my youtube channel); my situation made me feel identified with them, although this has vastly changed.

Musically, Desesperanza could be described as obscure and surreal black / doom metal about death, grief, mass suicide & transcendental chaos, or, in a fewer words: atmospheric black metal with funeral doom elements. On its production I tried to stick to the sound I wanted it to have originally, from the vocal tone and variations to the specific drum beats and the atmospheric guitar sound and it was achieved.

It is uncertain if I'll ever compose more material for Desesperanza. I'm at least now able to keep this work with me forever.

The vacuole of life is a sphere of chaos, inside of it there's penury and it dwells inside every human. It manifests as tragedies keep occurring and it drives towards inevitable decadence and absolute grief.

Bury in the depths of the being the desire to prevail, be immersed in the frustration of being incapable, hold life from the hand and let it pull you down from your foot, renounce to the path of righteousness and delve into evil... End your life, free yourself from this world now!

Don't fear cutting your veins, nor a guillotine on the neck, you'll be inducing yourself to your own freedom, its only a journey to a better moment, the only one in your life in which you'll be able to surrender with entire devotion. Nothing and no one knows something more sacred than to agonize calmly knowing that your life has already been the past.

The cycle of the miserable man, repeating the same mistakes, abyssed in eternal decadence...

Bitter vile venom that dilates the pupils, salivates the mouth and intoxicates with deceit called: life. With your rancours you condemn everyone who ingests you, you incapacitate the purpose that's being upheld.

You limit the transcendence of the psyche, you taunt when you see we feel unsatiated. You hate us yet you breed us...

Human life is nothing more than a rotten fruit. Man perishes and woman lacks, both fruits rotting in permanent isolation.

Detach from the surface where the nectar drips, its sweeter to adhere to the truth, which consists in finding your path and dying having achieved it.

The pollination of the human being by it's misfortune, germinates the convolvulus of it's own destruction.

Worthless are one's words, when what's worthless to one is, in fact, oneself.

I feel an internal emptiness where the only things existent are pain and confusion, I feel that nothing has meaning and disgracefully I'm here just to suffer (live) and to die, without even knowing what awaits for me or what does not, whilst time is passing and I didn't do anything because life itself didn't let me, nor it let me feel peace, nor it gave me any hope to be alright.

I don't want to laugh, nor I want to cry... I don't want to feel, as my persistent feeling is a load of sorrow, but one feels if one's alive... I wish I was never born. Never born in this erroneous world which separates me from the rest I crave... Will I die soon? How much time left I have? If this is how it'll be, let it be fast and in this moment as this pain kills me very slowly. Maybe this wish is of life and not of death, but I'm sure that I won't ever live, as this is mere suffering. I'd call this: to die in life.

Maybe my soul's illness is provoked by a deep melancholy or by an unbearable loneliness... I can cause a lot of pain but I consider everyone else is a pain for me; I'd never commit suicide because life is the only thing I have... If someone else had my eyes, he would be able to see that the world is the real hell. But I'm not prepared to die as there's a vast array of things that have to be done first. In a paradoxical way I think the world is perfect as suffering exists and suffering one feels. Its wrong to not feel anything, ever, to be like a rock waiting for time to deform it, to erode it. Everything that can be lived is disorder, that's why everything and everyone is changing, always, if it wasn't like this there wouldn't be capacity to think or to even take decisions unconsciously. This is the divine chaos, sensations and moments, illusions that die as time passes. Could it be that my presence in this world is necessary? I believe not.

When has being alive been so significant to avoid sinking in failure? Precisely this spawns a feel of anguish so big to the point of attacking one's own life; this is the true hopelessness.
In the end of the rainbow there's a chest, a chest filled with sorrow. Anyhow, what's the meaning of hope? Is there really something so beautiful? Of one thing I'm confident though, hopelessness is in reality the key to find a hope: the desire of suiciding.

Life, insignificant enigma, why do I possess you? End now! I don't want to be alive, lost in this labyrinth of sick hopelessness. I'm in the border of refuting my own argument of avoiding suiciding. Would it be best to let life be fulfilled without my presence, and prescind from it? Either way, I won't let life end me. I will end it myself.

There was a time when love was present, now desolation is never absent; I really thought that melancholy was the love of my life, but anguish confessed to me the wish of being my loyal fiancée.

Perdition is my cradle, penury is my comfort, despondency is my refuge and agony provides me prosperity. How beautiful would life be if suffering didn't exist but how beautiful is to suffer due to life itself...

Nostalgic memories offer me their distressful condolences, its painful every time that their dismal remembrances visit, the depth of these injuries makes them impossible to heal, nevertheless, the fact of being able to feel them grants me a great satisfaction.

If there was a horizon where the light was the world and an abyss where the opacity prevented all sight, I'd prefer to spend life inside the latter and stay blind to preserve my eyes of realizing the cruel reality.

Illusion leads to destruction, to failure, the consequence of experimenting the unfairness of life. Deception is the invader and joy is the invaded, futility is necessary to progress, life is vile paradox.

Its hard to think how it would be to live in the warmth of consolation, imagining, one realizes that dreams are always beautiful as they distract from reality, if not, they'd just be vacuous fantasies. If only it was worth to be awake to live them...

Maybe I don't deserve to be happy... Maybe happiness won't accept me again on it's sweet mantle as bitterness is rejected by it's essence and my heart sleeps with it. I represent tears never shed, cries that were never lamented, the dispossession of significance and the venial counter-productiveness...

One more life lost in misery, one more path leading towards misfortune, one more hermit, consumed in repression by the tragedy, one more euthanasia, that brought relief to the pathetic humanity.